


“And when the prince comes in, greet him with a kiss.”

by freecas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Castiel and Dean Winchester are the Same Age, F/M, Fluff, Horse Impala, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Jealous Dean, King Dean, King Dean Winchester, King Sam, M/M, Past Character Death, Prince Castiel, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-26 22:26:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6258187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freecas/pseuds/freecas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean  decided to have a little journey and meet the regents of the bordering kingdoms, while Sam was left to watch the kingdom. He respected the traditions of each kingdom he visited no matter what. So when he was asked to kiss the prince, well, he wasn't the one to refuse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dean had always been aware that different kingdoms had their rules and their traditions and when visiting them you had to follow said rules. And Dean had always respected that no matter how strange or frankly creepy the traditions were. Most of the times though the change was something Dean had looked forward to. And even more often the traditions were the ones Dean actually enjoyed (like the ones when his visit was met with a huge feast that ended in a huge orgy but that’s a story for another day). So to say, Dean had always respected the rules of other kingdoms as he expected them to respect the rules of his. There was rarely something Dean wasn’t comfortable with––

“Wait, _what_?” he asked, his voice louder than he had intended. He noticed some of the glances thrown in his way and whispered, “Are you _shitting_ me, Bobby?”

“It’s a tradition here. You greet the royal family you aren’t acquainted with yet with a kiss,” the councilor grumbled shrugging his shoulders, “I wouldn’t make that crap up even if I wanted to.”

Dean waited for him to laugh it off, but the man continued to stare at him with an honest expression. Dean ran his hand over his mouth and breathed in and out.

“Alright, okay,” he said finally, as a way of mentally preparing himself, “It’s not like I’ll be kissing a guy for the first time, right?” Dean winked and Bobby rolled his eyes.

Finally, the doors to the throne room opened and the royal family walked in. Dean had already met the king and the queen two summers ago, but he had been a prince himself back then. He had visited the kingdom with his father as a way of preparing to become a king one day. However, Dean couldn’t remember that John had kissed anyone. Dean didn’t even remember meeting the prince.

Maybe the guy had been too young for that kind of events, and now the King decided that he was of age. Anyhow, it wasn’t Dean’s personal concern.

What Dean _did_ wonder though was if the guy was cute. It wouldn’t influence Dean’s demeanor, Dean was going to flirt no matter what, but he couldn’t help the thoughts.

The prince walked in behind his parents, the silver crown hidden in the thickness of dark hair. He moved like the place belonged to him (which was partly true), his head was held high, his blue eyes staring right ahead.

“Well, it looks like I don’t have any other choice,” Dean mumbled under his breath, his eyes following the prince, “In the name of the alliance.”

“Stop looking so smug about it,” Bobby grumbled, “One of the valued traits here is modesty.”

Dean rushed the smile off his face as soon as the king and queen stood in front of him. He bowed respectfully.

“King Charles,” he smiled, and then glances at the queen, “And of course my Queen, Rebecca,” and Dean kissed the back of her hand. He noticed her cheeks redden and winked at her from where he was bowing.

“King Dean,” the king said, “Last we saw you, you were just a prince. How quick the time flies.”

Dean straightened and nodded, “It sure does.”

In spite of all his demeanor, Dean was quite respectful and honest when it came down to talks and negotiations. That was one of the reasons why he had decided to have a little journey and meet the regents of the bordering kingdoms himself, while Sam was left to watch the kingdom.

“I don’t recall you meeting our son,” the king stepped aside, “Castiel.”

Dean swallowed a lump in his throat when the blue eyes glared at him from underneath the long eyelashes. His chapped lips were just slightly bit parted in a way that reminded Dean of what he was supposed to do. _Castiel_. Dean had to lick his lips to stop himself from smiling.

“I would have remembered,” Dean noted watching as the prince tilted his head to the side.

From behind him, Bobby grumbled something along the lines of _stop enjoying yourself_.

Dean’s remark was followed by silence and Dean had visited enough kingdoms to know what that had meant. Not breaking the eye contact Dean made couple of steps that had been separating him and the prince. The brush of lips was the purest kiss Dean had ever given. He lingered in prince’s space for a little while.

The flatter of the eyelashes and a quiet sigh were the only responses Dean was allowed to witness. He parted their lips and stepped back. The prince looked at Dean wide-eyed, his cheeks the prettiest shade of pink. It took lots of self-control not to lean down again and steal the kiss back.

“Let us dine,” the queen offered suddenly.

Dean had to make himself look away from the prince and bow to the queen. He walked with the king, the prince stepping silently behind them. He never said another word, not during the dinner, nor afterwards when the king invited Dean to go for a walk in their gardens. And whenever Dean glanced at the boy, he would stare back at Dean, his expression always open and honest, and maybe slightly bit confused. He was listening to everything Dean and the king were discussing not daring to interrupt or state his opinion, even when none of them spoke.

“Does the prince have anything to say in the matter?” Dean asked during one of those silent moments, when they touched on a subject of a war uncovering in the further east.

Castiel glanced at him as if considering answering. 

“War is an inevitable outcome whenever the interests of two domineering parties collide,” he stated, his gaze fixed at Dean the entire time.

Dean would have never guessed that the princes’ voice was that gravel. And now that he had finally heard it Dean wouldn’t mind making the prince scream his name.

Dean had to blink the thoughts away and look back at the king who was proudly supporting his son’s opinion.

When they returned to the Palace, the prince bowed _goodnight_ and Dean did the same, following him with his gaze until the white dressing hid behind the corner.

Dean had stayed in the Palace for two more weeks. He and the king discussed the matter of entering into an alliance should the war be actually declared. The king also suggested opening borders between the traders of the kingdoms. Dean fancied the idea but had to discuss it with his brother, which the king totally understood. Some other technicalities were negotiated and the friendship between two kingdoms deepened.

The last day of Dean’s stay the king hosted a ball as an evidence of good terms and benevolence that the king undoubtedly felt for Dean. He drank too much, his face turning red with each glass of wine and he had to excuse himself when the ball was at its height. Before he was led away by his guards, the king leaned down towards Dean and whispered, “Not to sound disrespectful, but I wish, my dear friend, I had a daughter for you… so that we could consolidate our fellowship once and for all.”

Dean clapped the king on his back and watched as he walked out of the ballroom. He glanced around, noticing that the queen was busy in the company of her ladies in waiting and smirked to himself.

It didn’t take him long to find the prince in the room (not when he had an eye on him the entire night). Dean snaked his way through the crowd carefully not to be noticed. When he reached the prince, he grabbed him by the arm and pushed behind the thick curtains.

The prince was ready to put up a fight, but when his eyes fell on Dean’s face, his whole body relaxed.

“Your Majesty,” he said his voice even lower than Dean remembered.

Dean smiled, “Name’s Dean.”

The prince breathed deeply and in the narrow space that they occupied even through the music and talks Dean could hear his breath flatter. He swallowed waiting for Castiel to reply.

“It would be disrespectful of me to call you by anything other than your title, your Majesty,” he said, his gaze lowering for a brief second and then rising back up.

Dean licked his lips and shook his head, “I’m not much older than you, Castiel. Besides, no one’s gonna know. I promise.”

The pink colored Castiel’s cheeks again and in the shadows Dean could still swear that it was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

“Your Majesty, I––”

Suddenly the whole place was filled with the noise of trumps. When they quieted, a voice announced that King Dean was to choose a pair for the remaining part of the evening. The entire time he talked Dean kissed Castiel’s lips pressing the prince impossibly close to himself. He felt hands snake around his neck and into his hair and growled, deepening the kiss.

There was music behind the curtains again and Dean pushed the prince to wall ripping a moan from his lips.

“Your Ma––” Castiel breathed out, and Dean’s lips covered his again, silencing him, “Your Majesty…”

A hand on his chest stopped Dean from kissing the desired lips. He looked back into the blue eyes, darkened by lust and swallowed, his hands pulling the prince tighter to himself.

“You have to go,” Castiel whispered.

The trumps sounded again, confirming the princes’ words and Dean sighed, defeated. His head fell on the Castiel’s shoulder and he breathed in the scent.

“My brother’s coronation day is in two moons,” Dean whispered and kissed the tender skin behind the ear.

He walked from behind the curtains and ran his hands through his hair, in a failed attempt to fix them. He approached the queen, offering her his hand; she carefully declined it, advising him to choose one of the ladies in waiting instead.

Dean danced through the evening with the girl he chose. She was young and pretty and normally Dean wouldn’t have minded. But his mind was occupied.

In two moons he was going to meet Castiel again. And this time he was going to make sure that the prince’s entire stay would not go to waste.


	2. "Name's Dean."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Sam's coronation day and Dean feels nervous. However, all his worries are forgotten when Castiel joins the celebration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since you guys asked for the second chapter, here you go! It's not big, but I hope you'll enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Dean paced the room, his hands running over his hair and face in a nervous matter. When he tried to stop and calm himself down the troublesome thoughts only increased. So pacing was a better option.

“My head is spinning,” Bobby grumbled from where he was sitting, “Can you sit yer ass down?”

Dean ignored the remark and continued to walk around. He didn’t have time to fight with Bobby, as he was wondering if this was a good idea after all. Not that he didn’t love Sam or didn’t want him by his side. Nor did he question Sam’s preparedness (the boy was in a better shape to be the king than Dean was). No, that was not the case.

What troubled Dean was the war spreading from the further east. The idea of two kings ruling one kingdom could be a weak spot in their reign. And should the war reach their lands… Dean didn’t know what to expect from his people.

His thoughts were interrupted when the doors to his chambers opened. Sam walked in wearing a bright green cloak over his shoulders, the long lap trailing behind him. Sam looked like a true – maybe a bit too young – king.

“What do you think?” he asked excitedly, a big bright smile on his face, his gaze shifting from Dean to Bobby.

Dean brushed the matching smile off his face and nodded, “Quite good.”

Sam frowned, “Quite _good_? It’s awesome, Dean!”

And Dean had to agree, because it _was_ awesome, and Sam looked awesome. And he was ready.

The coronation didn’t take long. Between the choral singing and loud clapping Dean yawned only a couple of times.

And then the celebration started.

Dean and Sam stood in front of two identical thrones and greeted the royal families that had arrived to congratulate King Sam and the whole kingdom. Their names were announced and they approached the thrones slowly, and by the time they were close enough to bow, Bobby had already whispered everything about the person standing in front of them into the kings’ ears.

Which was pretty hilarious.

“Prince Castiel of Paradise Lands!”

The smile was fast gone from Dean’s face as he watched the prince walk through the doors. He hadn’t changed, the expression on his face still unreadable and proud. He didn’t even glance in Dean’s direction when he finally came closer to the kings. He bowed respectfully in the traditions of Dean’s kingdom.

Castiel congratulated Sam on his coronation and confessed that King Charles had fallen ill, so unfortunately, he couldn’t make it to the celebration. However, as a way of proving his good will he had sent his only child in his place, best wishes and gifts from his kingdom.

With the clap of the princes’ hands, lots and lots of gold gifts were carried into the ball room. Dean noticed Sam’s mouth go slack.

“We thank King Charles for the gifts and wish him fast recovery. It is very unfortunate that he could not be present today,” Dean replied on Sam’s behalf.

Castiel finally glanced at Dean, and Dean’s breath hitched from the sight. Their stare lingered and then Castiel bowed again and stepped aside, letting other members of royal families take his place before the kings. Dean smiled and congratulated everyone, but his mind was with Castiel the entire time.

When the greetings were finally over Dean congratulated Sam one more time and excused himself before walking into the dancing crowd. He passed his people who bowed respectfully to him, some kings and queens as well. He had to stop couple of times to have a brief discussion just out of pure politeness but each time he excused himself and walked away.

Castiel was standing in the farthest corner of the ballroom, surrounded by young ladies but not participating in the conversation. Dean watched the scene for a couple of moments, enjoying the view of Castiel, his hands locked behind his back, his gaze shifting from one lady to another visibly confused by all the fuss. Circled by loud ladies who most likely craved a chance to become a princess one day Castiel looked quite comically.

Dean chuckled to himself and stepped into the circle.

“Excuse me ladies, but I’d like to borrow the prince for a short conversation, if you don’t mind,” the ladies bowed at once and Dean used that moment to lead Castiel away, knowing perfectly well that the conversation wasn’t going to be short.

One of his hands gripped the princes’ arm while the other stayed securely over his smaller back.

“How nice of you to hide yourself from me as far as you could, your Highness,” Dean whispered into Castiel’s ear walking him through the crowd and to the closest open door he could find, “Makes a guy wonder.”

“How nice of you to think that every decision I make resolves around you, your Majesty,” Castiel hissed back.

The moment they were out of view Dean kissed Castiel, both of his hands on the sides of the princes’ face. He couldn’t help himself, not when he hadn’t seen Castiel in two moons and certainly not when the prince was responding to the kiss like a drowning man gasping for air.

There was some noise in the farther part of the hall and Dean was suddenly pushed away by strong hands on his chest. Castiel eyes twitched to the side and back at Dean, and it took just a moment for Dean to get on with what was going on.

He swallowed making a step back just in time for two guards walk in their line of view.

“And that’s when the monkey says _I’m pregnant, you idiot!_ ,” Dean exclaimed, frantically gesticulating.

There was no reaction from the prince other than frowning but the guards were already gone from the hall. Dean watched Castiel, with the evident _what the fuck man?!_ written all over his face.

“I don’t understand how the monkey can talk and why does it say that it’s pregnant. And who is she talking to?” Castiel frowned apparently trying to find the answers to those questions.

“It’s just a _joke_ ,” Dean said; the prince gave him a confused look, “You know what a joke is right?” Castiel shook his head and Dean sighed, “Okay. We’ll talk about it later.”

Dean grabbed the prince’s hand and walked him through the halls careful of all the guards and guests walking around. When the door to his room closed behind them, Dean pushed Castiel to the nearest wall and kissed him senseless.

The surprised moan that broke off Castiel’s lips was everything Dean had ever wanted to hear and more. He bit his lower lip and enjoyed the princes’ silent quiver. Dean pushed himself impossibly close to him, his lips landing on Castiel’s neck and following a trail up to his ear to whisper _God, I missed you_.

He felt the prince’s hand grip his shoulder not to push Dean away but rather as a way of keeping Dean in place.

“You should not ah––” Castiel whispered his breath ragged, “admit something like that, until you mean it, your Majesty.”

The blue eyes were staring at Dean daringly, expecting Dean to play him, to laugh him off. Castiel was letting Dean do whatever he wanted to him without having any faith in Dean’s true feelings.

Which was understandable since Dean had never made his feelings and intentions clear.

Dean grabbed Castiel’s hand, entwining their fingers, and leaned down, his forehead resting on Castiel’s.

“I know what kind of rumors haunt my name,” he whispered, “But I shall be damned if any day passed without me picturing you in my embrace since I first saw you.”

He watched Castiel swallow, his eyes looking for lies and tricks. After what had felt like eternity, he leaned forward, his lips touching Dean’s the way Dean had kissed him for the first time two moons back. It was weightless and pure and served a promise of Castiel giving himself to Dean completely.

“I may be the most naïve and foolish prince,” Castiel whispered, “But I would lie if I said that you haven’t bewitched my soul, your Majesty,” he licked his lips and breathed out, “My king.”

Dean smiled, “Name’s Dean.”

The corners of Castiel’s mouth lifted up slightly and Dean hurried to taste the rare smile while he could. He felt the prince’s silent giggle with his mouth.

“ _Dean_.”


	3. "You know it's the right thing to do."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel stays at the Winchester's Palace a little bit longer. Dean couldn't give a damn about rumors.

Dean knew that people talked. People had always talked and he had long since learned to ignore it. In fact, he got so good at neglecting other’s opinions of him, that Sam had to have a talk with him concerning his image every once in a while, which, okay, Sam might have had a point there.

However, Dean would be a damn fool if he allowed himself to care about the gossips that had been buzzling around the palace for the last month.

All he cared right now was how pretty Castiel looked riding the horse. His hair flying different directions, his chest rising and falling and the concerned expressions on his face – Dean savored everything he could memorize. His prince was the most beautiful sight Dean had ever been allowed to witness.

“Wow,” Sam’s voice attracted his attention.

Dean had to straighten up a bit where he had been leaning on the fence and cleared his throat. Sam appeared out of nowhere, his eyes glued to Castiel. He nodded for a second, and then glanced at Dean.

“You let prince Castiel ride Impala?” a cunning spark flashed in his eyes, and Sam smiled.

Dean rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, “Well, you know, Sammy, he has left his horse back in his homeland, so I thought, why not, you know.”

Sam was smiling widely now, and Dean knew that his brother saw everything. Dean had never cared for the gossips, but his brother’s opinion – that he valued highest of all.

Dean should have probably said something else, ensure Sam that he was happy or tell him that nothing had been going on, but the only thing he was capable of saying, when his little brother was looking at him with the most _you’re so obvious, Dean_ look was “Shut up.”

Castiel had dismounted from the horse already, when Dean glanced back at him. His long slander fingers running through Impala’s short dark hair. He whispered something to her, and the horse lowered her head ready to cooperate. Dean chuckled knowing that Impala didn’t obey everyone.

Castiel looked at them and waved, a small smile appearing on his face. Dean waved back just because he couldn’t help himself. When Castiel started walking their direction, Dean noticed Sam shift.

“I received a letter from King Charles,” he said quietly, “You’d want to read it.”

Dean didn’t have time to ask for more details. Castiel was already standing in front of them, his blue eyes bright in the autumn sun. He was slightly out of breath but he bowed to Sam nonetheless and Sam returned the compliment by slightly nodding.

“Prince Castiel, I have to admit, that I feel absolutely terrible that amidst your stay here I didn’t have a chance to talk with you, in spite of our kingdoms being such good allies,” Sam stated, and Dean had to admit that Sam had gotten much better at holding a discussion.

“It would be my pure delight to have a proper conversation with you, your Majesty. I’m looking forward to be dining with you tonight,” and Castiel bowed again.

Sam glanced at Dean one last time and left them with that. Dean groaned loudly once his brother was back in the Palace.

“Is it me, or King Sam is indeed suspecting something?” Castiel asked ignorant of Sam’s sly remarks.

Even if Sam knew, there was nothing bad in that, right? Sam knew about his adventures during the traveling as well as anyone else. It wasn’t such a big secret, so Dean having a relationship with a guy didn’t have to be a problem.

Only Castiel wasn’t any guy. He was prince. A prince that would, most likely, get married to a princess in order to strengthen relationships between two kingdoms. And Dean would probably do something of the kind too, because he would never let Sammy marry without love.

Dean sighed, feeling Castiel’s hands on his shoulders.

“ _So_ , what did you think of her?” he asked, turning around.

Castiel was smiling slightly. He was so beautiful, Dean didn’t think he would ever be able to get used to the view.

The prince nodded, “She’s wonderful. Strong, full of energy, healthy, as far as I can tell. Also she has quite a character.”

Dean huffed out a laugh, “She does.”

Castiel stole a quick peck on a lips. Obvious or not, they shouldn’t be loud about their relationships, Dean reminded himself.

When they lay in Dean’s bed couple of hours later, Dean listened to Castiel’s heartbeat, while his princes’ fingers were fonlding with his hair. It felt so peaceful and right that for some time at least Dean pretended that it _was_ right.

“This is so nice. I don’t want to leave the bed,” he whined, his lips brushing the skin on Castiel’s chest slightly, “Let’s lie like this forever.”

He heard Castiel’s silent chuckle and smiled to himself.

“We can’t. Your brother is expecting us to join him for dinner,” but he didn’t move after saying it either, “But I have to agree. This _is_ nice.”

Dean rose on his hands, looking directly into the baby blues and smiled. By the manner that Castiel’s right brow had lifted Dean knew he had guessed what Dean was about to suggest.

“Round two?” he offered and leaned down not waiting for the reply.

Castiel responded lazily, following Dean’s lead and letting him take control over the kiss. Dean took advantage of it and settled between Castiel’s legs, biting his bottom lip slightly. He kissed the light stubble on the prince’s face and the underside of his jaw, paying attention to a particular spot that he knew would arouse a whimper from him.

“ _Dean_.”

There it was.

“We have to get ready.”

Dean kissed Castiel’s neck and then brushed it slightly with his teeth. He felt Castiel’s hands grip him tighter where they were holding him and kissed the place again.

“He’ll wait.”

“ _Dean_.”

Dean sighed, dropping his head on Castiel’s chest.

“You know it’s the right thing to do.”

Of course. But also the right thing was holding Castiel tightly and never letting him go. So it wasn’t like Dean was cheating.

“Besides, I _am_ looking forward to talking to King Samuel. As much as I’ve heard he has quite interesting and uncommon ideas on different matters,” Castiel mumbled thoughtfully, his attention shifting from Dean to his brother pretty damn quickly.

Dean straightened up, “Well, maybe then you should be enjoying _his_ bed tonight!” The moment the words were out, Dean regretted them. He turned around and stared at Castiel as if horrified of the words he was capable of, “Cas, I’m––I didn’t mean it––”

Castiel sat straight, his fingers curling around Dean’s forearm gently, “You’re an asshole, your Majesty.” He was smiling when he said it, and Dean was lost at what to do. The gentle tone of his voice was the absolute opposite of what he was saying.

Castiel sighed and leaned forward, kissing Dean slightly.

“You don’t have to be jealous,” he whispered, “I belong to you, utterly and completely. And I would never have it any other way.”

Dean kissed him again and again _and_ _again_ , whispering, _I’m sorry, I’m sorry, baby_ until there was no spot on Castiel’s face that his lips had not touched. Castiel chuckled quietly.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam gave Dean the letter he had told him about the day before.

It was the next day, during a particularly quiet breakfast shared between the two brothers, that Sam gave Dean the letter from Chuck. He hid his glance from Dean as Dean’s fingers cupped over the white paper. Sam didn’t have to tell him to hide the letter when Castiel finally joined them for breakfast too.

“Your Majesty, King Samuel,” Castiel nodded slightly, “King Dean.”

Dean noticed a brief smile on his face as Castiel said his name. Who could blame him? It was just fifteen minutes ago as they parted and Dean had to appear first in case Sam wanted to talk to him. Which he guessed right.

After Castiel had joined them, the conversation lightened up, topics changing one another, laughter filling the room. Dean liked Castiel here. He wondered if he could ask King Charles to let him stay in his Kingdom for longer.

When Bobby appeared, reminding Sam of his classes that he had to get ready for, Sam bowed and left them, excusing himself.

Dean glanced at his Prince, memorizing everything about him while he still could.

“I’d like to visit the market today,” Castiel stated suddenly.

It wasn’t like they never left the halls of the Palace, but Castiel’s request was honestly strange to Dean. He didn’t question it though.

“Of course, your Highness. Let me accompany you, then.”

“No,” the Prince opposed. Dean’s eyebrows lifted at that. For the whole time Castiel had spent time here, they were inseparable. Did he grow tired of Dean?

“Forgive me, Your Majesty, but I would rather enjoy this trip on my own. It will not take a lot time, I promise.”

And with that, what was Dean supposed to say?

He made sure Castiel had enough guards that no one would harm him, and stole a quick kiss when he could. His Prince stroked his cheek and promised to be back soon.

Dean walked the halls, troubled. When he reached his room, Dean recalled the letter Sam had given him during the breakfast and opened it.

King Charles apologized for not being able to join the celebration of Sam’s coronation, again. However, he was quite sure that they would meet very soon––

“At my son’s wedding.”

Dean breathed out the words but could not believe them. He read that line again and again, until every curl of King Charles’s letters smashed into his memory.

Dean read the remaining part of the letter like a mad man.

_… was to be married this autumn._

_… Princess, I’m quiet sure you’ve heard of her…_

_… hoping we are to meet …_

_… Castiel home._

Dean threw away the letter, breathing hard.

Castiel was getting married. _His_ Castiel.

 

The sky was colored darker blue when Castiel finally returned from the market. Dean heard the horses but refused to move from where he was sitting in the dim room. He knew Castiel would come to him, he knew that in just couple of minutes he would enter this room. What was Dean supposed to tell him?

Was he supposed to act like nothing bothered him?

Was he supposed to demand answers?

Castiel had promised to be his. He had _sworn_ to be his. Even though both of them knew it wouldn’t be forever, Dean hoped for at least couple of summers more to have Castiel all to him.

It had been just a month and over already.

“Your Majesty?”

Dean sighed, letter secure in his pocket, “Come in.”

Castiel walked in, a bright small smile on his face. He was wearing white again, and Dean’s breath hitched when the first thing Castiel did, was lean over Dean and greet him with a kiss. It was small and brief, still, Dean felt his heart quiver at it.

“My King,” Castiel whispered, making a step back.

Dean cleared his throat, his eyes wandering about, “So, how was the market?”

“Marvelous,” came hurried response, “ _Actually_ , I’ve got something for you.”

Dean glanced up, but Castiel was already at his feet, a small silver chain in his hands. He circled it round Dean’s wrist and locked securely there. It was nothing but a small chain, still, Dean couldn’t take his eyes off it.

“Do you like it?” Castiel asked from where he was kneeling between Dean’s legs.

Dean responded with a nod, trying not to give into it. Castiel was getting married. And what is a silver chain compared to a golden ring exchanged in the presence of people and God?

Castiel’s fingers traced Dean’s skin from beneath the chain, his eyes glued to it, “I wanted to give you something to remember me by. Even if it’s something as small as this.”

Dean’s heart hammered in his chest as Dean grabbed Castiel’s face and turned it to him, “It’s _not_ small. I’ve never had a bigger gift.”

Castiel’s eyes lit up and he leaned up on his knees, his hands coming to lay on Dean’s chest for support as his lips found Dean’s. There was everything in that kiss, and Dean grabbed Castiel like he could disappear any moment now like a ghost.

 _His_ Castiel.

“Do you really like it?” he asked, his voice rough, his lips swollen and Dean would go to hell if he lied to him.

“Of course I do. I’ll never take it off. Never.”

Castiel smiled, “I’ve had them engrave our initials on it. They’re small, but… real.”

Castiel’s hair was so soft in Dean’s hand when he touched it, his body so willingly obedient when Dean lifted it. If stories could end at your happiest moments, Dean would pray for the end.

“Is this goodbye?” Dean asked finally, words leaving his mouth like a sentence to his life. He searched for Castiel’s eyes but feared the answer.

Castiel’s mouth opened, his fingers playing with buttons on Dean’s shirt nervously, “I… I am to be married. This autumn. I’ve known since before Sam’s coronation. Couldn’t make myself tell you.”

Dean lowered his hand on Castiel’s neck, the silver chain resting on Castiel’s shoulder beautifully.

So, it was true. Not that King Charles would lie in his letter to Sam but still. If it was known for that long, it must have been official already. What was Dean supposed to do?

He kissed Castiel. Again and again. Until their lips were sore, until they were out of breath, until his fingers hurt of gripping his Prince so tightly. Dean breathed in Castiel’s scent.

“Don’t forget me.”

Dean grabbed Castiel’s hair and made him look into his eyes, “Don’t be a fool. How could I ever forget you?”

The blue’s glistened in the small light that candle provided and Dean kissed the slightly salty trace on his Prince’s cheek.

Castiel left three days later. It was about a week before Dean and Sam received official invitations to the wedding.


	5. "I hope you enjoy your stay."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel's getting to get married. Sam steps up as Dean is close to breaking down,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I think I enjoy breaking hearts >=)

“Dean, you gotta stop.”

Well, joke’s on you, Sammy, because Dean wasn’t going to.

The thing was, Dean had tried. He really had. He had tried so fucking _hard_.

He had tried being a good prince after his mother had passed away. He had only been four, but he had never stopped being a good big brother and a son. He had brought up Sammy even when he himself was a fucking child because his father hadn’t trusted anyone else. Dean had been his brother’s nanny, teacher, mother… everything.

He had tried after his father got himself killed. He had got so much better at being a member of royal family; he had become a king, for the sake of his brother, for the sake of his people. A good king, if Bobby’s words were anything to go by.

And Dean had never _ever_ whined or asked for help. He had never closed himself up or let his emotions out. He had his moments, yes, but he also was pretty fucking good at what he did, no matter what it was.

At his young age, Dean already was a respected King. Maybe even a feared one, if Dean allowed himself to dream. Because even during the war spreading fairly close to the borders of his kingdom, no one was foolish enough to cross them and declare a war on him.

So yeah, if Dean was a little bit drunk and a little bit out of it for the last couple of days, well, he deserved a fucking break.

“So _suck_ it, brother!”

Dean saw Sam’s bitch-face through the bottom of the emptying glass and almost chuckled. He had lost track of the shots he had taken, but he couldn’t care less.

Tomorrow they were leaving for Castiel’s wedding. It would take four days to get there, four long never ending days. And then Castiel was going to be married. Right before Dean’s eyes.

Barely thinking about it made Dean’s chest ache and stomach curl on itself (or maybe that was just whiskey’s fault). Castiel was getting married. _His_ Castiel. His blue-eyed prince. The smartest head he had ever had a chance to kiss, the hottest body that he had ever had a chance to fuck.

_Fucking fuckfuckfuck. Fuck!_

Sam’s hand stopped another glass on the halfway to Dean’s lips.

“That’s enough.”

So Dean tried. He was so good.

He squeezed Bobby’s hand extra tight when the man was left to rule the Kingdom in their absence. He smiled to his people when they waved them goodbye and wished them to come back soon. He almost didn’t drink for the four-day trip to King Charles’ kingdom. He never even shushed Sam when the little smart-ass tried talking feelings and emotions throughout the entire trip.

Dean was strong and proud and he knew the rules of the game.

So if he breathed a little bit too deep and squeezed his jaw a little bit too hard, and tucked on his sleeve – where the silver chain was hidden securely around his wrist – a little bit too anxious, well… Have you ever seen Castiel in blue floral frock coat-like suit?

You wouldn’t have had a chance to take a breath either because Castiel looked fucking angelic and all Dean could thing about was ripping that attire off and having that cute proud-looking face all to himself.

Dean counted five kisses between Castiel and guests he assumed Castiel had never met, before catching a servant and asking for a drink. Or five.

It was way more than just a drink, when Sam caught his hand whispering that it was their time to greet the royal family. Dean wanted to be pissed but his little brother looked at him with his lost puppy look and Dean could do nothing against it.

“It’s so nice of you to come, King Dean, Kind Samuel!”

“We wouldn’t have missed it for the world. Also we would like to voice our deepest regrets that my brother wouldn’t be able to stay longer than just couple of days.”

“Why, no! Of course, we understand. Our days it _is_ terribly dangerous to leave the Kingdom unattended.”

“That is why we are so much more thankful to you for joining our celebration together.”

“Well, as I have already said, we wouldn’t have missed it.”

“King Samuel, you are too kind.”

“And you are too generous, Your Majesty.”

“Please, call me Becca.”

Dean wanted to puke. And this time it was definitely _not_ whiskey’s fault.

He watched and listened to the conversation half-heartedly, counting times Queen Becca flushed her eyes at Sam and times that Sam would look completely embarrassed. Becca was winning.

King Charles left their presence a while ago and Dean was fairly certain the man was drinking somewhere in the corner. Dean wondered if he could do the same.

And then there was a warm hand on his shoulder and all Dean could do was turn around and try not to look too wrecked.

“You came.”

Dean swallowed.

He could not believe those eyes and small wrinkles around them. A smile so small and still visible to his eyes. An expression so pulled together and still so sad. Dean’s heart was torn apart.

He looked away and nodded, his hand tightening around the glass.

“We wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” The words were sharp and rehearsed leaving his mouth. Dean feared that any extra sound he makes could destroy any fake demeanor that he and his brother had built so carefully.

There was a long pause before the prince talked again.

“And I am grateful for that. Your Majesty.”

Fuck.

_Fuck._

Dean wanted to look up; to look into those eyes, to see them brighten up when his prince smiles, to see those tiny early wrinkles in the corners. To memories him completely while he still had a chance, while they stood so close that Dean could just reach him with his hand and pull him close. And then burry himself in Castiel’s smell, in that ridiculous outfit that could look so disturbingly hot only on Castiel; to be lost in _Castiel_ while the world crumbles around them.

“It _is_ a disappointment for you to leave earlier than anticipated.”

Dean licked his lips, staring unblinkingly at the liquid in the glass.

“Hmh,” he hummed, pressing his lips into a tight line.

It was silent again and Dean could only do so much watching those ridiculous shaped shoes walk away.

“I hope you enjoy your stay. As short as it may be.”

Dean’s heart twisted and sank.


	6. “Don’t you ever forget me.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel's wedding day.

Dean never wanted to leave his bed. His head hurt, he was tired after a four-day journey. There were too many people and he had to be extra polite and extra _king_.

And also the music. And talking. And too heavy clothing. Seriously, why the fuck were his clothes so damn heavy. They weren’t even good at keeping him safe should something happen.

Also he didn’t quite like this Kingdom’s cuisine. Too much fruit, too little meat.

So there’s that.

Dean pushed the pillow couple of inches down his face and stared at the ceiling.

Castiel was getting married.

At this point it was inevitable to deny it. He saw the decorations, the priest-kind-of-person, the flowers and the gifts (he even brought some of them), the musicians, the cake the _everything_.

Even the bride.

And she was pretty. Even kind of Dean’s type. And if Dean was completely honest with himself, she and Castiel were going to make a wonderful couple. They would have cute children. Castiel was going to make a damn great King one day. And Dean was going to witness it all. And be happy. And maybe just a little bit proud.

God, Dean wanted to die.

“No, come on, you’re getting up.”

Of course, Sam to the rescue.

Dean watched himself in the mirror as he was getting dressed and wondered. Maybe hadn’t he kissed Castiel back when traveling different kingdoms, maybe had he kept his hands to himself instead of pushing the boy behind the curtains and kissing him senseless – maybe he wouldn’t have felt like shit right now. So it was actually all his fault after all.

Dean had to remind himself that he would leave tomorrow at noon. He would leave for his Kingdom, and that would be it. No more Castiel, no more of that stupid feeling deep inside his chest. He would be free. It would be over.

His fingers caressed over the warm silver chain and it took everything for Dean not to break down.

_Fucking Castiel._

Dean forced away the memories of them together. Of their slow mornings and long evenings. Of the times they were sneaking around, running away. The fast and hidden kisses, the hot and loud nights. The times that Castiel could only mumble his name _– DeanDeanDeanDeanDean––_ before his body gave away and whimpered and shouted and trembled and quivered––

“You are ready for the event, Your Majesty.”

Dean huffed out a laugh, but it was humorless.

The ceremony didn’t take long. A little bit of excited shifting, a little bit of aweing, a little bit of respectful silence, then more aweing, than a little bit of ceremonial speeches and alcohol sipping, a little bit of god remembering and oath taking, and before Dean knew it Castiel was married and Dean was drunk.

That about summed it up if you asked Dean. Well, maybe there was more, but after couple of sneaked away bottles of whiskey, Dean could remember only one thing – the way the liquid burned his insides.

_Speak now or forever hold your peace._

Another bottled emptied up and Dean could finally look up at the face of the girl he was dancing with.

_Speak now or forever hold your peace._

“’ll f’cking speak ‘ll r’ght!”

 _Speak now or_ ––

“Dean.”

There it was. Dean turned around and yeah, there was Castiel. No more _his_.

“Yer Highness-ss.”

Even drunk to the point of hardly standing his ground Dean saw Castiel’s hardened jaw, darkened features, knitted eyebrows. Dean wanted to kiss that expression away.

Fuck it hurt. Not being able to touch him.

“You look angry.”

“You look drunk.”

Dean chuckled, humorless, looking up to the sky darkening with minutes. It would be over before Dean knew it, he had to remind himself.

They stood there in silence while the music played and people dance and drank around them. It was such a pretty wedding. So rich, so fun. So prosperous. Maybe with a chance of stopping a war. Maybe with a chance of making it worse.

All Dean knew was that Castiel was looking at him, his eyes cold and proud. Dean could see right through them. He was frustrated. Disappointed.

Dean chuckled again.

“Ya grew up.” He made couple of steps to the table, getting one more bottle and filling a random empty glass, not even bothering with asking a servant. “Yer a big boy now. No time to play games an’more.”

When Dean turned around Castiel was standing there, his head a bit tilted and–– _Fuck_. Dean emptied the glass in one swift motion.

“Games?”

Dean was disgusted with himself. But he had to.

“Yeah, games. The one you and I were playing.”

If Dean was going to hell, he would accept it. He would accept any kind of punishment for the way Castiel’s eyes widened, for the no more disguised hurt and offence. Dean felt wrong with every particle of his body.

He had to turn away.

“Don’t look at me like that, Cas. It’s not like it’s not a _Happy Ending_ for ya.” He poured himself more whiskey. He wanted to drown in it. He almost succeeded. “So go, be happy, have your wedding night and everything… You’re gonna be happy. Gotta be.”

It wasn’t like Dean had never cried before, but it had never been so sudden.

“I don’t need that, you know. I can handle myself.”

Dean breathed out, “Well, I can’t.”

It was just a whisper, Dean couldn’t even hear it himself, through the music and talking and the noise. Castiel couldn’t have heard it.

“Dean.”

“Anyway,” Dean turned around, outing a wide smile on his face, “Gotta go have some fun.”

“Dean.”

With his free hand he clapped Castiel on the shoulder, “And I believe your lady-wife is waiting as well.” He made couple of steps forward, almost coming alongside Castiel.

Cold long fingers curled around his wrist where his hand was laying on the prince’s shoulder.

“ _Dean_.”

Dean pushed his hand away harshly, making a step to Castiel, “Don’t make me do something we both might regret.” Maybe it was alcohol, maybe lack of self-control, but Dean sounded violent even to his own ears.

Castiel’s gaze lingered on his face, searching for something – anything – and then dropped. “Your presence today pleasured me and all the members of my family deeply. Be safe on your way back home.”

It was definitely alcohol when Dean opened his mouth next.

“Your family members can suck my dick.”

And Dean didn’t mind.

Not with Castiel dragging him away and kissing him in the corner of the dark garden. Not minding the celebration or music or people or the way Dean reeked of whiskey. Castiel kissed him forcefully, not letting him take a breath. And Dean was glad, holding his prince so tight he was pretty sure he was bruising him. Marking.

“I hate you,” Castiel breathed in between the kisses, gripping Dean’s already wrinkled collar, scratching skin on the back of his head, tagging on his short hair, “The way you make me feel… Hate, hate you––” Castiel’s teeth abused Dean’s lips, biting them until Dean felt blood in his mouth, “Not _fair_.”

Dean held him close, his thumb moving soothingly, whispering _shhhh, baby, shhhh_.

“It’s not fair.”

Dean wiped away tears on Castiel’s cheeks and held him close thankful for that moment. Because they had it. That very moment belonged to them. And that very moment Castiel was _his_.

Tomorrow was going to come, and Dean would leave. And Castiel would stay and have a life of his own, and Dean would be a King he once aspired to be. And everything would go back to normal.

Tonight he let himself whisper sweet nonsense into Castiel’s ear feeling the way long fingers caressed his skin. He allowed himself to forget about time, about people, about life all around.

His life was sitting on his lap, forehead to forehead, skin to skin.

“You destroyed me.”

Dean chuckled. He leaned forward just an inch and that was enough for their lips to touch. As chaste as the very first time, when they met. When they were no one to each other, just strangers having to follow the awkward tradition.

Unlike that day, Castiel kissed Dean back, and there was everything in the way his lips forced themselves onto Dean’s.

“You destroyed me, you asshole.”

Dean savored every passing second, every shared breath, every touch.

Castiel’s tongue licked over the scratch on Dean’s lip carefully. Dean kissed a light stubble on his cheek and chin, burying his nose in the crook of Castiel’s neck, breathing in the oh so delicious smell.

“I’d be a fool not to.”

Castiel chuckled, but it was sad.

“Let me make it up to you.”

Castiel sniffed. Dean held him tighter breathing in such a familiar smell.

“You have about twenty minutes before they come looking for me.”

Dean kissed the skin on Castiel’s neck. “I’m up for a challenge.”

Castiel’s hands snaked around his neck as they kissed.

Tomorrow they would be completely different people. Dean would shake hands with King Charles respectfully, maybe playfully flirt with Queen Rebecca, say goodbye to Sam, and maybe just maybe out of formalities he’d also say goodbye to the Prince.

And Castiel would nod respectfully and thank him for joining them. And Dean would say something that should be said in the conversation like that.

And when the formalities are over Dean would leave.

But right now, Castiel was breathing has name like a prayer, his eyes darker than the sky above them.

Silver chain around Dean’s wrist was laying on Castiel’s naked shoulder chiming quietly.

“Don’t you ever forget me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I had a thought of making this one much longer, with couple of more plot twists to get it to Happy Ending. But then I feared that I might never finish it that way. Sooooooo. There you have it. Not quite a happy ending, but at least some kind of ending after almost two years...


End file.
